


radiance

by helenblackthorn



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, Just one Oc, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenblackthorn/pseuds/helenblackthorn
Summary: "Fifteen year old Aline would have laughed and said: “no way am I going to be responsible for another human being,” if asked about children. Would have laughed harder at the idea of being called a mother.Twenty-six year old Aline stood smiling softly in a doorway, watching on as her daughter gave her wife eskimo kisses and murmured nonsensical words she always expected to be said back to her."





	radiance

Years ago, Aline would have never imagined herself having a child.

Deep in her teenage torment days, she had always supposed that she would only ever have a child for her parents sake more than her own.

Somewhere down the line, that opinion had shifted, although when it had been exactly was unclear. Aline thought perhaps it had been when she and Helen had exchanged family rings, sipping rosé wine on a blanket under the Los Angeles stars on a beach all to themselves. Aline had envisioned their futures together while her fingers traced the engravings of the Blackthorn family ring on her hand, familiarizing herself with the feel of it.

Or, maybe it had been when Drusilla clung to her hips the day she had been due to leave back to Idris and made Aline promise to come back as soon as possible, because she adored Aline and loved to have someone new listen to her stories. Or the time Helen had woken her up from where she had fallen asleep on the couch, Tavvy napping in her arms, and commented how great Aline was with kids despite her initial skepticism.

Maybe, Aline considered, it had been Magnus and Alec and their little family together. She had seen the look in Magnus’ eyes when he was with Rafael and Max, pure adoration, and she had seen the way Alec’s mood seemed to shift - as if the weight of his life had been lifted off of his chest, making way for something much lighter, and happier.

Whichever it may have been, or a combination of them all, Aline was eternally glad that her perspective on becoming a mother had changed.

It was Aline’s cousin, Vivianne, who had reached out to catch up and, in casual conversation, mentioned that the Academy had just received a recently orphaned girl from the Istanbul Institute. She was young at only five years old; too young for training, and with no living relatives left to take her in, the Academy was looking to place her in the care of another Institute. Vivianne had also offhandedly mentioned that she was a sweet girl, smart for her age, and that Aline would, as she put it, “fall in love” with her.

Aline relayed the information to Helen the same night, and then they were portaling to Idris the next morning.

There had not been much of a discussion. Helen and Aline were more or less on the same wavelength as one another, able to detect what the other was feeling by just looking into each others eyes. It was an unspoken agreement: they were ready to go from two, to three.  _They were ready._

Vivianne had been right, of course, and even bounced on the balls of her feet when Aline had told her so.

Her name was Alya, and she was pure radiance, a sun that radiates warmth that Aline could hold in her arms and hug tight and kiss without the fear of getting burned from it. Aline understood, in that moment when Helen knelt down to her eye level and Alya gave a shy smile and brushed Helen’s hair away to see the elven curve of her ears, the change in Magnus and Alec with their sons.

Fifteen year old Aline would have laughed and said: “no way am I going to be responsible for another human being,” if asked about children. Would have laughed harder at the idea of being called a mother.

Twenty-six year old Aline stood smiling softly in a doorway, watching on as her daughter gave her wife eskimo kisses and murmured nonsensical words she always expected to be said back to her. It had become something of a nightly ritual over the past year.

“Okay, okay,” Aline announced as she entered the bedroom, carrying with her a small collection of mundane children’s books she found stashed away in the Institute’s library, which Julian mentioned were once Tavvy’s. She sat at the other side of the bed, sharing a knowing smile with Helen before addressing their daughter. “It’s getting late and I still owe you a story, princess.”

And she did. Alya got cranky otherwise, and that usually meant for nightmares.

Alya beamed over at her, clapping her tiny hands together excitedly - which meant either Mark or Emma had snuck her sweets before bed and she was still riding out the sugar rush. Aline made a mental note to question them about that later. “Can I pick the story tonight, mommy?”

“Just one this time,” Aline said firmly but affectionately, laying the selection out before her.

“Then it’s bedtime for you,” Helen added, quickly tickling Alya’s sides which elicited a peel of high-pitched giggles as she pressed a myriad of kisses on her small tan cheeks.

Afterward, Alya got to work deciding which story she wanted to be told, her face the picture of concentration. Aline and Helen called it her ‘serious business’ face, because of the way her brows would furrow, her mouth set in a thin line, and her tiny fingers at her chin.

“I want this one,” Alya determined at last, pointing at a book with fairies - not to be confused with actual faeries - on the cover. “‘Cause they have pointy ears just like Mama’s.”

“Excellent choice,” said Helen as Alya leaned back, tucking the blanket around her with a smug little grin.

Once she was settled in, Aline handed her wife the other books and cleared her throat.

By the time she finished the story, the sugar high had surpassed and Alya was struggling to keep her eyes open. Helen, who had moved to sit beside Aline to put her arm around her waist, smiled softly. “Ready to sleep, baby?”

“Mhm,” Alya hummed, snuggling further into her pillows.

Aline closed the book and took one of Alya’s hands to give it a kiss. She had taken to giving the palms of her hands little kisses before she slept to will the possibility of nightmares away, a small non verbal reminder that she was loved, and it delighted her when Alya begun to do the same thing. She’d stayed up gushing about it with Helen all night, similar to how they had when she first called them ‘mommy’ and ‘mama.’

“Goodnight, little one,” Aline said.

“Night, mommies,” Alya murmured groggily, voice slurred with sudden exhaustion. Aline knew she would be sleeping within minutes.

Helen turned off the lamp light on the bedside table and the two got up to leave, hands entwined simply for the sake of just  _touching_ , closing the door quietly behind them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> something short and sweet, done as a request from an anonymous user on tumblr a couple months back. fun fact, i absolutely suck at titles. 
> 
> *Alya (ah-lee-uh) means ‘sky’ or ‘heaven’ in Turkish and Arabic, according to wikipedia. for Livia <3
> 
> *ALSO this was written pre-qoaad! (rip vivianne lol)
> 
> find me @ helen-blackthorn.tumblr.com and send me stuff!!! (currently working on a few heline fics that I'd love to talk about w you guys!)


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